Forging Zero: Lost Years
by SheegothBait
Summary: A record of the childhood that Goliat Krubbus would rather forget, this companion tale to Forging Zero plunges the curious reader into the strife-torn past of Forging Zero's titular enigma...and the twisted intellect of the man responsible for Goliat's transformation. Some readers may find this controversial and/or disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.
1. Forewarning

SheegothBait here.

Welcome to my darkest fanfiction yet and possibly ever.

Let me get the disclaimers out of the way first: this is not something I made up, but something spawned from a character profile that came about through an artwork. If you would like to see where this idea comes from, please see Goliat's Application by Krubbus on deviantart.

As you'll be able to tell if you read the accompanying material, this fic _earns_ its M rating. Apart from its black tone, this fic explicitly references drug use and abuse, illegal experimentation, physical and psychological torture, child abuse, character death, violence, and heavy foul language. If you cannot stomach this, you have been forewarned and may not want to continue.

Still here?

Okay then. Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes.


	2. Prologue: Impossible Choices

Lantus rolled the drops of blue liquid from finger to finger, watching dazedly how they glistened in the light. The cerulean beads gathered at his talons and dropped onto his lap, and he lunged clumsily for them as they soaked into his pants. He sighed at the loss, then lifted the bottle in his other hand and shook it into his mouth. A single blue droplet splashed onto his tongue, and he reluctantly put the bottle down. A low, keening wail split the stale air, making him wince. Lantus knew his son was suffering in the other room, but he couldn't help. He had no money for doctors, no money for medicine, no money for the kind of help his son needed. He let his head fall against the tattered couch cushions and closed his eyes. He remembered the accident and following ER visit clearly, even when he was this drunk.

The boy had fallen down the stairs and broken five vertebrae, two ribs, and his left wrist. When he'd found his child collapsed on the floor, twitching and screaming, he'd called the closest hospital in a frenzy of panic. While his boy slept off the large dose of sedatives the EMTs had administered, he had numbly listened to the doctors' findings, unable to believe his ears. The boy, according to the doctors, had acute juvenile osteoporosis, a genetic disease that destroyed bone cells at a prodigious rate, much faster than the tissue could regenerate. In other words, his bones were disintegrating. The disorder was extremely rare in children, normally only seen in senior citizens. The doctors had never seen a case this bad, and had given the boy two years to live before his spine shattered under the weight of his own body and the bone shards sliced his spinal cord to ribbons. The boy would be six years old by the time he died.

 _It wasn't fair_ , he thought, _for this to happen to them._ First his mate and the mother of the boy had walked out on him, then the curse of a short and painful life had fallen on the youngster. And on top of it all, the landlord was just about ready to evict them. Lantus hadn't paid the rent in at least three months; the money had gone toward the hospital bill. It was all he could do to keep the lights on and water running on his meager salary. The apartment was filthy; the carpet released puffs of dust when he walked across it, the windows and surfaces caked in dirt. But he had no time to clean. He already worked double shifts at his factory job trying to pay for things. There _was_ a way out of this mess, but he hated to even consider it. Still, his son had been suffering for several months now, and he was tired of watching the pain his boy was going through.

He glanced toward the shitty secondhand Bluewire tool he'd purchased. Three weeks ago, an older gentleman had knocked on his door, introducing himself as Dr. Gorius Levia, telling Lantus that he researched terminal illnesses and possible treatments and at least his son might have a chance if he came with the doctor, however slim. The doctor had offered money for the boy, flat out, which had shocked Lantus. The child's genetic defects, he suspected, was why his mate had left in the first place, and now this stranger would _pay_ for the kid? He knew something was wrong, and sure enough, when he'd pressed further, the doctor had admitted that family couldn't visit patients because of the distance and the high security and experimental nature of the treatments. He had promptly shut the door in the doctor's face. Later, he'd found the doctor's card on his table, and for some reason, he'd kept it.

He stumbled over to the worn desk and retrieved the yellowed, rumpled piece of card, turning it end over end. Another low wail echoed from his son's bedroom, and he glanced worriedly back towards the door. He knew his son was dying, slowly, and he also knew there was nothing he could do. Not even the doctors at the hospital could help; even if he could take on more debt, all they could provide was some comfort as his boy's body degenerated. In someone this far gone, the doctors told him, genetic therapy would only stall the inevitable. It wouldn't fix previous damage, and his child's bones would still be as fragile as twigs. But maybe…maybe Levia could give his boy a chance…

He picked up his omni-tool and clamped it around his arm, once more considering the card. A whimper cut his thoughts, a high-pitched, wordless cry of pain, utterly animal and utterly helpless. He hung his head and reluctantly made the call.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

A knock on the door woke him the next morning, and he ambled to the door and opened it, revealing Dr. Levia, who wore a pressed shirt and black pants, his name tag pinned to his front.

"Good morning. Sleeping in late?" the doctor chided gently, looking around the apartment. "Where's your boy?"

"In the other room," Lantus responded gruffly. "Sleeping on the only bed."

The doctor stepped around him, and he glowered at the specialist's cowl as the man looked around some more. He followed the doctor's gaze to the empty bottle on the floor, registered the slight disgusted twitch of the man's mandible.

"Where's the boy's mother?" the man asked.

"Gone. She left when he was only a baby."

"I see." The words were cautious, but not apologetic. "May I?" The man gestured to the door.

"Yeah, I guess."

The doctor faced him. "You don't seem very sure. If you want my help, you need to be certain and cooperative."

"Fine," Lantus snapped at the specialist. "I don't have much fucking choice after all, do I?"

"You always have a choice," the man explained calmly. "I can still leave now, if that's what you want."

"No." He grit out. "Don't go. Not without him. I don't-don't want him to-" He choked on the words, unable to finish.

The specialist stepped across the room and patted him on the shoulder. "There, there. I know this is hard. I'll take care of him though. Don't worry. Now, what's the boy's name?"

He shrugged, and the doctor shot him a look.

"His mother walked out on us. He has two years to live. What else do you want from me?" Lantus snapped defensively.

"All right, all right."

He tailed worriedly behind the man as the specialist entered the only bedroom and stopped just inside the door. His son rolled over with difficulty and peered at the strange man in the room. Lantus walked over and sat beside the young turian, pulling his boy close.

"This is Dr. Levia. He's going to make the pain stop, okay?"

The boy peered at the doctor, face half-hidden in Lantus' shoulder. Lantus stroked his son's arm gently as the doctor approached and squatted down in front of the boy.

"Hello there," Dr. Levia said with a smile. "What's your name?"

The boy said nothing.

"There's no reason to be afraid. I'm here to help you. You can tell me you name."

The boy mumbled something unintelligible and squeezed his stuffed varren tighter. Lantus stroked his son's shoulder again, feeling the youngster tense in pain.

"Well, you can tell me later. Now, what hurts?"

The boy gestured to all of himself, then let out a low whimper.

"I can make the pain go away, but you'll have to spend some time with me, away from your dad, so I can look at you properly. You can bring your varren friend," Levia said with smile.

The boy glanced up at his father.

"You'll be safe with the doctor, " He promised his son before directing his attention to the specialist. "Dr. Levia, take care of him."

"Of course." The doctor pulled a syringe out of his pocket, which the boy eyed nervously. "It's just to make the pain go away, no worries."

The boy squirmed but didn't make a noise as the doctor administered the injection. Lantus watched nervously as the drug took hold of his son, stroking the boy's budding crest and catching him gently when the kid slumped over.

"What did you give him?" He snapped defensively at the doctor. Surely painkillers weren't supposed to knock people out.

"Narcotic-based painkiller. He'll be fine. The transition is easier for children if they don't have to say a long goodbye. I'll be there when he wakes up, don't worry." The doctor put a hand on his arm. "It's time to let your child go. He's sick and needs help, and I can take care of him, but you have to trust me."

"I know," he answered gruffly. "It's just hard."

"Would you like me to take him?"

"No, I can do this." He lifted his son from the bed, alarmed at how light the youngster was. He walked out to the aircar and placed the child in the backseat. Dr. Levia followed, nestling the small, worn stuffed animal next to the sleeping boy.

"Goodbye, son," he murmured as the doctor shut the back door.

"You're doing the right thing" the doctor promised, patting him on the shoulder. "I'll send you the relevant documents, and you'll get your money when you complete them."

He pulled away. "Just keep him safe."

"I will. Farewell." Dr. Levia extended a hand, and he reluctantly shook it, quickly letting go. The doctor got into the aircar, and he watched both of them disappear into the streams of traffic that crisscrossed the grungy city.

 **A/N: So it begins...**


	3. Loki

He stirred, the numbing darkness receding to a hazy awareness. Something that was not his blanket covered him; the wall he stared at didn't look like a wall. He blinked a couple of times, registering smooth movement, then recognized his surroundings with a start.

He lay in the back of a personal shuttle, headed…somewhere. It was nighttime; streetlights flashed against the dark ceiling of the aircar. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten here, but the pain that had been a constant since he could remember was gone. He wondered who was driving.

"Da?" He called softly. A face peered around the passenger side of the seat, but he didn't remember the stranger's features.

"Easy there. It's okay. Remember me?"

He shook his head, pressing back into the seat. His fingers found his varren, and he hugged the toy close, looking around in fear.

"My name is Dr. Levia, remember?"

He eyed the doctor and tried to push himself up, but fell against the seat cushions again, too dizzy to continue. What he realized was a long white coat slid off him.

"It's okay. It's just the pain medicine. It will wear off." The doctor gently touched his shoulder. "Just rest. We'll be home soon, all right?"

He stared at Dr. Levia mutely over the top of his stuffed varren's head. The doctor reached out, holding out a hand to him. He looked up at the man's fingers, then reluctantly took the offered hand. Dr. Levia smiled.

"I'll take care of you. You'll see."

He pulled out of the man's grasp and squeezed his stuffed animal. His eyelids still felt heavy, so he curled up in the back seat and closed his eyes.

He woke up to someone gently shaking his shoulder and blinked wearily up at the man bending over him.

"We're here now. Come on."

The doctor took him under the arm and helped him stand. He grabbed at the adult with one arm, unsteady on his feet. He blinked around at the scenery- the sky was growing light, silhouetting the dark trees and a cluster of buildings. He turned in confusion. He knew that he lived in the city; he heard the aircars flying by every day. Why then, had the doctor taken him out to the woods, hundreds of kilometers from the city?

Dr. Levia wrapped the coat around his shoulders.

"Don't want you to catch a cold out here. What do you think? It's different, isn't it?"

He shrugged a little and squeezed his toy tighter.

"I think you'll like it out here. It's quiet and there's lots of space. You'll be able to go outside every day if you want. Sound good?"

He shrugged again.

"Let's get you inside, hm? You can explore later after you get some food in you."

He looked up at the doctor, who chuckled.

"I want to do a few quick tests before you eat. There are some things I need to figure out to better help you, all right?"

He looked up at the doctor nervously.

"You'll be just fine," Dr. Levia purred, opening the door for him. The interior of the building looked and smelled like a hospital; pale green blank walls lined the hallways, cast in bright lights, and the smell of antiseptic stung his nose. He shrank back.

"Come on. I won't hurt you," the man promised, gently pushing him forward. He turned and looked back at the exit. The doctor took him around the shoulder and steered him into one of the rooms. The door shut behind him. He shrugged the white coat off and squeezed his stuffed varren until the toy's button eyes bulged out, pressing his forehead into the animal's back. The doctor motioned to the lady in the room, then looked down at him again.

" What's wrong?"

He tried to tell the man, but it came out as a muted squeak. The doctor took him under the arms and lifted him up onto the table.

"There. That's better. It helps that you're so light. Now, what's wrong?"

"I want Daddy," he managed, mandibles trembling. Dr. Levia smiled.

"I know you do, dear boy." The man ran a hand over his budding crest. "This is hard for you. Maybe you can talk to him later in the week. But I need to know your name if I'm going to call him."

"Goliat," he said haltingly.

"Thank you. I'll try to get in touch with your dad later." The doctor gently took his wrist, careful not to scratch him with his ungloved talons. "My my, it does seem like you have quite the case of 'white coat syndrome.' Means you get nervous around doctors," Levia explained with a smile. "It's fine. Plenty of kids here get it."

Goliat kicked his legs against the table and stared at his feet. He did not want to be here. He had been in a place like this once, and all he remembered afterward was pain, and lots of it. The aching in his bones was coming back, and he quailed at the thought of the pain returning.

"Are you cold?" The doctor asked, peering at him. "You're shivering."

"Hurts," he mumbled into his stuffed animal.

The doctor made an unhappy noise. "Well, I can fix that. We'll talk about the rules here later, after you rest and get something to eat."

The lady approached, holding something. Goliat stared at her hands, trying to make the thing out.

"Goliat, don't worry about her," the doctor said. He looked up at the man as the lady took his arm. He realized the white marks he'd seen on the doctor's face before were gone.

"Where are your…" he gestured to his face. Dr. Levia frowned.

"I'll tell you another time, my boy."

Goliat flinched as something bit his arm and tried to pull away, but felt suddenly dizzy. He blinked hard, confused, and reached out for the doctor, who took him around the shoulders and eased him back onto the table.

"Easy. You'll be fine."

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVv

Dr. Levia watched the boy's body relax under influence of the sedative and let out a low sigh. He bent over his new subject and took the boy's pulse. Subjects were much easier to handle once they were asleep, and that was how he liked to keep them while he was doing any sort of examination or test, for obvious reasons. Positive first contact with his subjects was essential to build trust, however, hence the reason he usually had someone else administer the drugs. He touched his cheekbones pensively. Perhaps he should have kept the paint on for a little while, but the boy would figure it out sooner or later. As they all did.

"Good work," he told the med-tech, who was clearly waiting for him to move.

She let out a snort. "It's not that hard when you distract them."

"True." He straightened. "I trust you can handle this one on your own? I have work to do."

"Of course I can," she said, rolling her eyes. "It's not like I haven't done this before."

"Then let me know when his microchip has been activated, and send me his test results. I can't assess his utility to me until I see those results. I'll leave you to it."

He turned on his heel and exited the exam room without exchanging another word.

 **A/N: Well, that was dark. But it's going to be that way for the next...ten?...chapters. Just a heads-up. I actually consulted with a friend over whether this fits into the horror genre, but after some discussion, we decided tragedy fits the overall mood better.**

 **This is the first fic I have generated secondary material for, and I will post it at the appropriate time to coincide with story events and to round out this bareface's history.**

 **See you next chapter?**

 **SB**


	4. Snake-Charmer

**This story contains material that some may find controversial and/or disturbing. Reader discretion is advised.**

"How are we feeling today, Goliat?" Dr. Levia asked, powering up his omni-tool and turning to his young subject as an aide escorted the boy into the office and helped him up onto the table. The boy said nothing, scowling at the floor and clinging to the stuffed varren in his arms.

"Come on, my boy. I just want to know how you're doing." He had to get an answer for the records.

Goliat squeezed the varren more tightly. "Everything hurts," he groaned in a ragged voice that belonged to an aching old man. Dr. Levia clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. A year had passed since Lantus turned over GK-60 to him, and he'd only now been able to formulate a treatment that might be effective. Finding the krogan genetics he needed had taken five months; he'd almost canned the idea all together, but a contact had guided him to a suitable albeit unwilling krogan subject. Another six months had been spent trying to process the samples and get the genetics usable. Finally, though, he had succeeded. GK-60 would get the first of the genetic treatments today.

"I'll give you your pain medicine in a minute. Lie down. I need to gather some data."

The boy curled up on his side, holding tightly to the stuffed animal, and Levia began a scan. His eyes fell on the stuffed varren. At some point, one of the aides would have to get the ratty, dirty toy away from the child. He had spoken to his aides about this before, and they reported that the boy always was seen with the little animal tucked under his arm, and that attempts to get it away from him resulted in tantrums. No matter; there was always a way around fussy children. One just had to find it.

He completed the scan and checked the results. The boy's bones were thinner than ever; a discouraging but expected result. He fed the stats into the main computer, then picked up an empty syringe, carefully measuring out a dose of the painkiller/sedative combination he used on his subjects. They didn't know the difference, and the drugs kept them quiet while he worked. He crossed the room and took hold of the boy's wrist, injecting the dose with the speed and ease of long practice. GK-60 whimpered a little, and Dr. Levia watched attentively as the drugs took hold. The child nodded off to sleep, his death-grip on the toy loosening. Dr. Levia checked GK-60's vitals; stable and steady, then washed his hands, impatient to get on with the testing of his completed formula.

His hands still damp, he crossed to the cooling unit and pulled out a small sealed vial of pink liquid. He studied it for a long minute, his gaze lingering on the biohazard sticker that marked the glass. The original virus did infect bone tissue and was deadly, but he needed a virus that would directly target the boy's weakening bones. His modified version was supposed to be harmless, but one could never quite predict how someone's body would react. The injection could very well kill the boy, but that was a chance the doctor was willing to take. He had other potential candidates for the same trial if GK-60 died.

He pierced the protective film on the vial with a syringe and carefully drained it, then turned to his sleeping subject, the hypodermic in hand. The boy twitched as he approached, and he stroked the back of the subject's neck gently, smiling in self-satisfaction. GK-60 would sleep right through this, and it would be interesting to monitor the boy as the viral treatment worked its way through the child's body. He found a vein on the boy's arm and carefully gave his subject the shot. The child whined softly in protest, body tensing, mouth opening a little.

"Shh." He ran a hand over the back of GK-60's neck again. The boy would be the first step in marketing this treatment and could possibly make him famous. The Hierarchy would ask too many questions, but he knew other black-market dealers might take it if he coul prove it worked. Of course, providing the child survived…

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVvv

 _"The doctor wants to see you…"_

Goliat shivered in the air-conditioned dark of the supply closet and pressed himself against the wall as the words danced around his head. The last time the doctor had called him into the labs, he'd gotten sick. _Very_ sick. What little he remembered from his stay in the hospital was fever and pain and an upset stomach so severe he couldn't eat at all. The doctor had put him on a drip to keep him from becoming dehydrated and malnourished, but he hated it so much he'd torn it out multiple times. The doctor had scolded him at first, then, when he hadn't listened, countered by giving him something that made him extremely sleepy. The rest of his stay in the hospital had slid by in a nightmarish, miserable haze of drugs and illness. Nearly a month had passed before he recovered.

Another shiver racked him. He didn't want that to happen again, and hopefully the doctor wouldn't find him and would forget about him. He squeezed his varren toy tighter and shrank from the strip of light at the door edges as someone passed by his hiding place. He held his breath a long moment. The door stayed closed. He glanced around, looking for a better place to hide, then sat down behind the cleaning bot.

"I'm scared," he murmured to his varren, hugging it to his face. "I wish you were real, so you could protect me. I don't want to see the doctor again."

The varren stared up at him with its glossy button eyes and big sewn-on toothy grin, its floppy front paws draped over his arm. He fingered the tear in the varren's left paw, frowning, then hugged the animal again.

"I wish I could fix you. Then we could both leave and go find Da."

Footsteps neared the closet again and he shrank down. This time, the door opened.

"Goliat?"

He didn't answer, but peered around the side of the robot to see who was out there. His favorite aide was standing in the doorway. He quickly hid again, hoping she didn't see him.

"Goliat, what are you doing in there? You're very late," she scolded, spotting him.

"Inala, I'll handle this," a deep voice said. Goliat went rigid. _That was the doctor!_ He hunkered down, shivering.

"Hello there, Goliat." The doctor's tone was gentle and calm. "Yes, I see you. Why don't you come out?"

He shook his head frantically, not caring whether the doctor could see him or not.

"No? Why not?"

"I don't like it. I don't want to." He protested.

"No," the doctor murmured, "of course you don't. That's normal. But let me tell you a little secret."

Curious, he peered out from behind the cleaning bot. The doctor smiled at him.

"What happened last time was _not_ normal. It won't be like that this time. I promise."

He stared up at Dr. Levia, but didn't move. "How come I got sick, then?"

" The shots I give you protect you from bad germs. But you haven't been getting yours because your daddy didn't take you to the doctor often enough. You caught something bad before I could properly protect you from it, and I got very lucky that you got better."

"It was my dad's fault?" Goliat wondered, his mind working furiously.

"Yes, it was. Without proper help from people like me, you could get very, very sick."

"I don't like getting shots."

"Then we won't do any this time. How about that?"

"You triple-promise?"

"I triple-promise, dear boy. Now come here."

Goliat reluctantly stood and came out from behind the robot, making his way to the doctor's side. Dr. Levia put an arm around his shoulder.

"Good boy."

Goliat looked up into the man's gray eyes and friendly smile. Dr. Levia's coat smelled…nice, something he hadn't noticed before. He pressed himself against the doctor's side, wanting contact with another turian.

"You needed a hug, didn't you?" The doctor murmured, stroking his back. Goliat nodded.

"If there's anything you need, let me know. I'm here for you," Dr. Levia told him.

Goliat said nothing.

"May I see your varren friend?"

He hesitated for a moment, then offered the stuffed animal, which the doctor took.

"Very cute, but he's a bit of a mess, isn't he?" Dr. Levia asked, fingering a stain on the animal's lower jaw. "Tell you what; why don't we give him a bath while I'm doing your check-up?"

"And you'll give him back afterwards?"

"Of course," the doctor purred. "And, if you're good during your check-ups, Inala can to teach you how to read. Sound good?"

"Yeah."

"I may have to start you on medicine in a few weeks, but I promise if you keep being good and take it, I'll give you more of my time. Would you like that?"

Goliat nodded.

"Then I'll leave this with Inala." He handed the toy to the lady. "And we'll get your check-up finished in no time, all right?"

"Okay."

The doctor smiled and began to guide him towards the labs. He glanced back at his varren.

"Don't worry; it will come back," Dr. Levia promised.

When he returned to his bedroom an hour later, he found his varren waiting for him on the pillow. The broken seam in the animal's paw had even been repaired. Relieved, he picked the animal up and cuddled it. _The doctor was really nice after all….  
_

 **A/N: Thank you to my beta-reader, Death's Tender Lover! She has put a lot of time and effort into reading and reviewing my chapters. I don't like to post without a second opinion, and it often takes her a few days to get to each new chapter. She has given me some good feedback to improve the story, though, and explaining sections to her has helped me reason out characters' actions and nuance my story.  
If you're into Black Butler, I recommend her writings.  
**

 **I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I have a lot already written, but I just need to string scenes together for a better flow.**

 **SB**


	5. Three-Inch Glass

"You've been quiet. How do you like it here so far?" Levia asked to break the tension, casually glancing over his subject's blood test results.

The boy looked up from tugging at his bandaged arm. "S'okay, I guess. Don't like this though."

Levia smiled. "You don't like me, or you don't like your check-ups?"

GK-60 shrugged. "Dunno."

"Come now, dear, you can be honest," he pressed.

"You said you'd call my dad. I miss him."

"I have called him, dear boy. I just haven't gotten much in the way of responses. It seems he's too busy to talk to you."

The boy stared at the wall. "Do you think he forgot me?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask him when you talk to him. How about if you're good, I'll try to contact him again?"

"Okay, but I want to see him on the video." The boy looked up at him nervously. "Can I go now?"

"You have to take your shot yet. You need your medicine if you're going to get better."

"The medicine you give me sometimes makes me feel really sick," GK-60 told him sourly.

"Really?" The smile dropped from his face, and he glanced at his notes again. "'Really sick' how?"

"I have headaches." The young turian shrugged, scowling at his feet. "My carapace itches; my arms and legs hurt. Inala says I have fevers sometimes too."

"Ah. I don't think it's anything to worry about. Just your body reacting to the medicine. It works in strange ways on different turians." Levia pulled another strain of live virus from the incubator. The real reason they boy was getting sick was, of course, that the splice hadn't taken in any satisfactory capacity, and additional treatment was required to make it stick. Hence the consistent tests on the boy's blood, the continued injections of the virus, and the boy's fluctuating condition. GK-60 might hate it, but this wasn't about the boy's comfort.

This was about getting results, and the injections would continue until he saw them.

GK-60 stared at him as he measured another dose, fidgeting and whimpering just on the edge of his hearing range. He bit down on the instinct to snap at the boy; all his subjects had similar responses to getting injections, and the sound of their muffled protests, though annoying, weren't distracting enough to make him err in his calculations. He liked his quiet, but getting the boy to cooperate was more important than his personal preferences right now.

"Keep still. This will only take a second," he told GK-60 gently, taking the small, fragile arm in his hands and locating the sizeable vein inside the boy's elbow. A shudder ran through his subject's body as he swabbed the spot with sterilizing agent, then quickly slipped the needle into the boy's skin before the child could pull away. The boy stiffened, letting out a prolonged whine that sounded dangerously close to crying. He resisted the urge to scoff. It was the same every time he pierced his subject's skin; the whimpering and whining continued though he knew they didn't feel much more than a quick jab. The pain of the injection was nothing compared to what the boy had been through already.

"All done."

"W-will you call my dad now?" GK-60 asked in a trembling voice as he bandaged the subject's punctured arm.

"Of course," he soothed, meeting the aide's gaze. "Keep an eye on him for the usual symptoms, Inala."

"As you wish, Doctor."

He smiled knowingly as the other two left together. Of course he wouldn't call; it was far too dangerous for the boy to contact his father. His secrets might get out, and he would never be able to finish his work.

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

The terminal chirped once before he reached over and declined the call for the-fifth?- time that evening. He didn't even have to glance at the caller ID to know who it was. GK-60's father was nothing if not persistent; this was the second month in a row that Lantus had tried every day, via a multitude of calls each night, to get into contact with his son. Levia smirked at the terminal as it pinged another angry voicemail at him. The man had yet to learn that Levia wouldn't just pick up at any time, and that furious threats did not make him any more inclined to share the boy's status. Patience was a virtue, as he had learned through years of experience. It was a trait he was very keen in teaching both his subjects and their anxious families.

He looked over his notes on the boy's most recent examination; all the values of the tests seemed quite desirable; the subject was in remarkably good health despite his painful condition. Though even that, he saw, glancing over the density scans, was starting to recede. It hadn't stopped by any means, but the rapid rate of bone loss _was_ slowing. _Hmm_. His mandibles twitched in a smile. Perhaps he had something here…

He checked his terminal for the boy's genetic data, but saw nothing. The sequencing must not be complete yet. Annoyance flashed through him and he leaned back in his chair, waiting for the inevitable tirade as he opened the message.

"Levia, if you're receiving this…"

He sat up. Lantus' voice was tired, pleading. _Not like the boy's father at all._

"Let me talk to my son. Please. It's been almost three months. I want to know how he's doing. I know you said he didn't have long. I just…want to talk to him again."

The message ended. He'd never heard the boy's father _beg_ before. Levia thought over how to answer the message. Clearly Lantus was desperate, but bringing GK-60 down for an actual chat over videolink was out of the question. The boy's loose tongue would spill enough of what Levia had been doing to make Lantus suspicious, and he would ask far too many questions, if not have Levia investigated. And though the documents that Lantus had signed prevented Levia from being arrested on the spot, a further investigation would inevitably turn up evidence of the rules he'd bent to breaking point during his work here…and inevitably land him in a triple-max facility on some desert moon somewhere.

Levia snorted at the thought. The Hierarchy didn't have any idea how valuable his research was, how much suffering it would save future generations. All he was doing was using the resources available to him, both giving his charges purpose in an otherwise short and purposeless existence and a chance at survival. The timid medical research specialists in Cipritine _itself_ couldn't say as much. They were all too cautious; they narrowed their visions to _acceptable_ methods, throwing out perfectly good options in place of ethical codes, supposedly to protect their already-dying patients from abuse.

 _Narrow-minded fools. Sometimes in science you had to take_ _risks_.

Admittedly, said risks often ended in casualties, but it was nothing he wasn't prepared for. His subjects were already dead without him, and he was utilizing their short lives effectively this way. With every new subject he brought back to his research facility, it became a race against the ticking clock to crack the mystery of the subject's genetic code, and with each trial and error, each death, he got a little closer to solving the mysteries of each unique gene-borne illness. Sometimes he managed to stall his subjects condition for weeks, even months, as was hopefully happening with GK-60. But these cases required shaking the infuriating nags the subject's parents (or in this case, parent) could sometimes be. In such cases, he issued a fake COD to the related and interested party, which almost always got rid of the unwanted attention.

If the boy's father was so desperate to keep tabs on his son, maybe it was time for him to "kill" GK-60 as well.

His talons _tap-tapped_ against his desktop as he thought the situation through. He would have to give Lantus reports over the next couple months or so; the boy was approaching the middle of his fifth year, and the decline had to seem slow enough to be believable, but fast enough to seem severe. With the right mixture of compassion and urgency, he could twist the boy's father in to receiving the COD, no questions asked and no further communications between the father and son made. And then he would have the boy all to himself.

He smiled at the thought. Oh, the potential the boy might have if he could just get GK-60 away from prying eyes and ears and stop his condition from advancing. So many years of possible scientific advancement, contained within one lifespan…It was enough to make any ambitious scientist _drool._ And it was in that innate value that he found reason to keep his subjects alive, happy, relatively healthy…and in complete ignorance of the rest of the galaxy's machinations. As long as he provided for them, they'd willfully stay under his thumb, and he'd keep and guard his little oasis of scientific data with the hopes he could save just a few and make a lifelong project out of the survivors. And eventually, rise from obscurity as one of the greatest minds in turian medical history.

One had to dream big to achieve anything of importance, even if it meant starting small.

He looked down at his terminal. His body had already spoken for his desire to act; his finger was hovering close to the 'return call' button. He rearranged his features into a mask of sympathetic concern and pushed the button.

The call rang once, twice, then picked up on the third ring, a harried and concerned face filling the video feed. Lantus blinked a couple times, confusion crossing his face in a flicker of mandibles and narrowed eyes.

" _Dr. Levia?"_

"Ah…yes, Lantus. I got your message."

 _"What about the other hundred messages I left? Did you get any of those?"_ Lantus growled.

"Yes, and I know you're unhappy with my failure to respond," he said, injecting a substantial dose of sympathy into his voice. "It must be very nerve-wracking for you, and I'm sorry."

 _"You don't say,"_ GK-60's father ground out, his voice dropping an octave.

"But you must understand I'm a very busy man. I have twenty-two other kids who need close attention, and twice that many concerned parents calling me up, asking to speak to their children. Between that and trying to treat them, it's very difficult, and sometimes things fall through the cracks."

 _"Quit trying to feed me klixen-shit! I've been trying to call you for_ months, _Levia! How could you have forgotten about me?"_

"Your name may have gotten mixed up in the people I've already called. This was probably just a clerical error, nothing more."

 _"Yeah, well, while you're fucking around with lists of who called who, my boy is dying! Don't you understand that he's on borrowed time?"_

Time to change tactics; a little indignation could go a long way. He drew himself up and scowled at Lantus. "Do you honestly think you're the only one who gives a damn about your child? How many calls a day do you think I get from people like you, asking about their son or daughter? You're not the only one who's concerned, Lantus," he bit out, jabbing a talon at the camera.

The man seemed to deflate like a popped tire before his eyes, running a hand over anguished features.

" _I'm sorry. Guess I didn't realize,"_ he mumbled _. "Just let me talk to my son, please."_

"You…caught me at a bad time. He's resting."

Lantus stiffened, swollen by indignation. " _You called me back to tell me he's_ sleeping _, Levia? What the fuck?! Can I or can I not talk to him?"_

He straightened his coat imperiously and let out a dry sigh. "You forgot about the time zones, Lantus. We're several hours later into the day than you are, and the majority of my staff and patients are all getting some sleep."

 _"Can't you wake him? I need to talk to him, make sure he's okay."_ His desperate amber eyes pleaded silently with the camera, hoping.

"I'm sure you feel that way, but sleep is delicate for the boy right now. I've had to up his nightly painkillers to deal with it. Even if I do wake him, he'll be groggy and disoriented and not very talkative."

" _But is he okay?"_

"Other than his condition, he's doing just fine. He's maintaining a stable weight and gets enough sleep, with medication. He's quiet and shy, but he seems to like his aide. He misses you, you know." Levia smiled at GK-60's father, trying to convey as much sympathy as he could. Lantus simply blinked back, the obvious unasked question stretching like weighted elastic between the two adults, ready to snap. Levia finally sighed, breaking the tension. _Damn_ it, the boy's father was persistent.

"No, I'm sorry, but you can't see him right now. The next few weeks he's scheduled for a rather exhausting series of treatments that must take place on a daily basis. He needs space to rest where he can."

" _Is he getting any better?"_

"I'm afraid not. He's out of pain, but that's the best I can do for him."

" _Isn't there_ any _chance to see him, Doctor? Please?"_

Levia thought for a moment. Perhaps there was a more effective way to drive a wedge between father and son. But it would take a little thinking over, a little technological fiddling, and a little risk. "I can let you see him, perhaps, but like I said, he may not be completely coherent due to his medicine. I'll let you know at the soonest possible opportunity, all right?"

" _Thank you. And try to make it sooner rather than later?"_

"I will do so. Thank you for your patience, Lantus, and hopefully you can see each other soon."

He terminated the call, a plan already piecing itself together if his head. He kept records of any and all contact between himself or the subjects and their sires for just this occasion, and this wasn't the first time he had to use them. A quick search found the minutes-old audio file, and he played it again, cutting the dialogue into pieces in his head. There was definitely the skeleton of a usable message in there, but it was missing something, something he hoped the final interaction would provide. Once he had that, GK-60 would never want to speak to his father again…

VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

 **A/N:Because a good plan is flexible...**

 **Dr. Levia scares me, and it scares me even more that he was spawned from a mere spark of an idea and the sludge that congeals in the darkest places of my imagination. I fear saying that this is only the beginning of his twisted plans, but it's only too true.**

 **The chapter title is based less on a physical object represented in the story and more on the idea of loving father and lonely son who know where each other is, trying to contact each other and unable to do so...as though separated by a panel of three-inch glass.**

 **Be warned, my dear readers; this is only going to get darker. The Forewarning was no joke...**


End file.
